


Flowers For A Ghost

by amiasha



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Improper use of memes, Post-Canon, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6014155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiasha/pseuds/amiasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh convinces Chris to take a class that he thinks will be pointless but an easy A, and it turns out he gets more use than he expects from what he learns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers For A Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Until Dawn Secret Valentine's event on tumblr, and go check out other awesome gifts posted under the udsv2016 tag! This is actually my first Until Dawn fic, and in true UD fashion it starts out light-hearted and then quickly descends into horrible sadness. I'm sorry. :c
> 
> Written as gen, but can easily be taken the climbing class route if you desire~
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

When Josh had first suggested taking the class, Chris wasn't so sure.

_"Come on, dude. You need a few more credits and it's a really easy A. Besides, it'll definitely impress the ladies~"_

Sure. Sure it would. 

Yet somehow Chris found himself enrolled in ‘The Language of Flowers' in his first semester of college, a stark contrast to the math, physics, and computer programming classes that filled out most of his required credits. 

Surprisingly, it was actually a lot of fun.

He definitely hadn't cared much about flowers before—and still didn't afterward—but it was a really relaxing class to go to after stressing out about his others. It didn't take a lot of mental effort, even to memorize what flowers went with what meaning, and tests basically consisted of writing out which phrase or sentiment went with what floral arrangement. There was also a lot of laughter during class, and people presented each other with horrible bouquets of fake flowers, not all of the students following exactly what they'd been assigned to communicate.

Chris may or may not have presented Josh with a collection of dandelion ( _faithfulness_ ), white chrysanthemums ( _loyalty_ ), pink lilies ( _devotion_ ), and gladiolus ( _never give up_ ). Josh had ruined the joke by not getting it immediately, but once he realized he'd been rickrolled with a bouquet the meme war was on.

Despite their misuse of plants, Chris and Josh had both earned A's just as Josh had expected. But then there was winter break, picking out new classes, and starting the next semester to worry about, and Chris quickly forgot most of the flower associations to make room for computer code and understanding electromagnetism. 

And then the twins had disappeared.

They were only missing, officially, but as the weeks had dragged into months everyone knew what it meant. A little memorial was set up on campus for the two women, and students left messages, small stuffed animals, candles, and flowers in remembrance; Josh had already left school by then, but Chris texted him pictures every so often in hopes that seeing how many people cared would help. Chris himself never knew exactly what to do add to the collection himself—nothing seemed quite right for Beth and Hannah, who weren't his sisters but were the closest thing he'd ever had—until one night he'd quietly placed an arrangement of different colored zinnias ( _in memory of a friend_ ) in the midst of the tiny tea candles and plush bunnies.

If Josh noticed the flowers the next time Chris sent him an update, he didn't mention it.

A few months later, the mountain happened.

Chris didn't have to spend a whole lot of time in the hospital, just long enough for the doctors to make sure he didn't have a serious head injury and to figure out exactly how badly he'd injured his leg, but he was still there when the Washingtons arrived. Sam had tried to intercept them and explain, and so had Mike, but they'd wanted to know the story from their son's closest friend. And so he told them, with a shaking voice and blank eyes, and afterward he didn't remember any of what he'd said; he only remembered their reactions, Bob looking some combination of furious and heartbroken, and Melinda hugging Chris and crying. They left soon after, and he didn't see them again until the funeral.

There were no bodies to bury, for any of the three siblings, just three matching empty coffins at the front of the room as the funeral director rambled on. It was hard for Chris to really focus on what he was saying—who cares, anyway, what point did any of this serve—and so his attention drifted, past Sam's misty eyes that conflicted with her statue-like expression, and toward the assorted items collected in memory of the Washington children. There were pictures, of course; there were pictures everywhere, of three smiling children and later teenagers, alone or with each other or with others such as Chris himself. There were a few personal effects, like a jewelry box of Hannah's that he remembers Josh dragging him to a custom woodworking place to purchase. 

And there were white lilies everywhere.

For the first time at a funeral, Chris knew what they meant. Innocence, purity; the white lilies were so often associated with funerals because they represented the soul, free of the struggles and marks left by life. He's not sure Josh would've liked them very much—Beth either, really—but Hannah would have, and that would've been enough for the other two.

The rest of the service passed in a blur of hollow words and people crying, and the next several days were similarly indistinct. It was over a month from that night at the Lodge when what happened finally sunk in, and Chris began to actually feel what he already knew.

It was over. Everything was over, and would be forever; there would be no more Josh distracting him with text messages when he should be studying, or Josh dragging him to the new food place he found and didn't want to get food poisoning at alone, or seeing Josh roll his eyes dramatically when Chris refused to turn off and then sang along with the Taylor Swift song that came on the radio. There would be no asking Josh why he'd been so angry at him, why he'd truly done what he did, why ten years of friendship hadn't been enough.

There would be no peace, no closure, and Chris would never get to tell Josh how sorry he was.

Chris didn't believe in the afterlife, or in ghosts or spirits; at least he hadn't before the mountain. Now he wasn't so sure, and it was that uncertainty that whispered to him that, just maybe, he could tell Josh. Maybe he could say a lot of things, even if he couldn't get an answer in return.

It was that quiet, tiny chance that prompted him to leave his room for the first time in almost a week, to leave a note so his parents wouldn't worry about him disappearing, to take his keys and start up his rickety but beloved car. A few brief stops later and he turned the engine off in the silent parking lot of the graveyard.

It was a beautiful cemetery, or at least as much so as one could be, taken care of every day by groundskeepers and therefore covered in green grass, devoid of any fallen leaves from the massive oak trees planted throughout the area. There were flowers on even the oldest of graves, placed there by courtesy even if the deceased had no living relatives to remember them, and crumbling headstones were replaced promptly by wealthy families or donors. Placed far enough away from any major roads, the graveyard was quiet and peaceful.

It felt like a mockery, somehow, and Chris nearly changed his mind and returned to his car. But he didn't, following the cobblestone path through the center of the cemetery towards the correct plot, hyperaware of the sun starting to disappear behind the trees and the birds beginning to cease their singing. Night would fall soon, and although he logically knew there was no danger here that didn't stop his instincts from telling him to run or, alternatively, to freeze.

But he ignored them, moving forward purposefully, because he'd already let Josh down too many times. 

It had been about a week since the funeral, and a few delicate sprouts and the start of grass had begun to emerge from the disturbed dirt in front of the headstone with Josh's name on it. Chris wasn't entirely sure why people buried empty coffins instead of leaving the ground undisturbed but it ultimately didn't matter, the thought just a distraction from what he'd come here to do.

"Hey.”

His voice sounded strange to his ears, and he realized that he'd barely used it in days. 

"Hey, bro. It's uh… It's me.”

God, this was stupid. He felt like an idiot, and worse yet a selfish one; here was talking to a pile of dirt and a block of marble and a rapidly darkening sky, because he felt guilty. Because he missed his friend. Because he wanted some sort of way to say goodbye.

"I just… I wanted to…”

His voice broke and he realized his vision was blurry; a shaking breath to try to get a grip only made everything worse, and he let himself sink down to rest on his knees in the dirt. A sharp pain shot through his bad leg at the motion but he barely even noticed it, pulling off his glasses so he could press an arm to his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears, and he didn't know how long he stayed that way except that by the time he'd stopped crying enough to be able to see night had fully fallen.

He took a few deep breaths, putting his glasses back on and trying to gather his thoughts, but it was an impossible task. There was so much to say, and he was just so tired.

So instead, he placed flowers.

Something had made him seek out the correct blossoms before coming to the graveyard, whether it was a subconscious knowledge that he'd never get the words out or just a desire to do something that would've made Josh smile—and call him a nerd, because _it was just a throwaway class, Cochise_ —he didn't know. Still, what mattered was that he had them to say what he couldn't.

The alstroemerias ( _friendship_ ) were a golden-peach color, seemingly out of place in the somber setting, warm and sunny even though only stars shone overhead. In contrast, the deep purple hyacinths ( _I'm sorry_ ) were barely visible, blending into the shadows and creating patches of darkness against the alstroemerias. The last flowers were ones Chris had never seen or heard of until that day, when the sympathetic woman at the shop had suggested them for him; they were deep red and reminiscent of hearts, and he laid them out gently on top of the other flowers. The cyclamens ( _goodbye_ ) created an eerie effect in the dark, like blood splattered across the alstroemerias and hyacinths, and somehow it seemed fitting.

_Goodbye, Josh. I'm so, so sorry._

Slowly he got to his feet, taking a final look down at the grave, resting a hand on the top of the marble block that held Josh's name. And then he walked away.


End file.
